Diary Entries
by namikojun
Summary: Two simple diary entries from two of Athen's workmen. Slash warning!
1. Quince's Diary

Disclaimer: don't own Midsummer Night's Dream. Now onto the story!

Quince's Diary

Hello dear friend, tis' I Peter Quince.

Today I have given my friends the script of my play, the first of many I assure you, _Pyramus and Thisbe._ Nick was surely pleased at this announcement and it only increased when he heard that he was to play the lover Pyramus. Francis, however, was not as thrilled.

"Nay, faith let me not play a woman. I have a beard coming," he had protested pointing at non-existent hair on his chin. The others had laughed at his remark but I silently glared at Flute. Truly that was the most idiotic thing I've heard. Out of the five of us, Francis looked closest to a girl. I even bet that if he wore a dress-maybe a wig-he could walk the streets of Athens without anyone giving him a second glance.

To tell the truth, I woke up last night to find a certain tightness in my pants after having a dream of Flute in a dress. It was such a beautiful image. The blue dress was tightly fitted around his slim body and his soft blonde hair was let loose, floating against his back. His eyes shone like the stars in the night sky. "Quince!" he had called out to me and soon he was running towards me. The angel was coming towards me and I caught him with open arms.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I felt the tightness in my pants and sighed. No matter how beautiful it was, this was wrong. How could I ever feel this way about another man? No, he was different. Flute wasn't just some other man. He was, was, something else to me. Not a friend but something more. I-I think I love him.

I feel sick. Flute is in love with the baker's daughter. If I tell him now, he'd surely think that I was mocking him either that or intoxicated. I'll just watch from a far and watch as he falls in love with that woman.

No, it'll kill me if I do. To watch him be with another, smiling his angelic smile at her. To watch him hold her in his arms I'd slowly die. I want him, all of him. I want his everything, his mind, his body, his being. I want him to only think about me every breathing moment of the day. I want my image to haunt his mind.

I will tell him, and whatever becomes of it I will embrace with open arms. For this is an act done out of love and I want him to know it so.

Peter Quince

Author Note: My english teacher called me crazy after she read this one...saying that you'd have to be in order to give this to your 8th grade english teacher...am i crazy?


	2. Flute's Diary

Disclaimer: This was an English Assignment that we were given as part of our curriculum concerning Midsummer Night's Dream. We were told to write one diary entry for two characters of our choice, this being the first out of the two. We didn't need to write it in blank verse(?). I hope you enjoy the story! . Hints of Slash

Flute's Diary

A girl? I'm to play a girl? How dare Quince make me the girl, the leading lady, the damsel in distress! What does he take me for? A woman disguised as a man? A man-woman beast?

In hearts of hearts, I truly want to become a man amongst men. Being in this play will only hinder me from achieving that. To make it worse, it's in front of the Duke and his new Duchess! It'll become the talk of the town. I can just hear them now.

"Francis Flute fits the role of a woman so well."

"Maybe his mother should've thought him how to be a proper young lady."

"He should've been born a girl!"

"If he was a girl, my son would court 'her' in a heartbeat."

These thoughts ran through my head as though they were little fairies caught up in a game of tag. The 'fairies' continued their game of tag all the while crashing against the walls of my head giving me the greatest headache I've ever had.

I need a drink. Yes, a drink to drown these pesky fairies will do quite nicely. And whom do I blame for giving me these pesky fairies? Quince! Quince is the cause of all of this. He and his stupid play they can both die for all I care.

Now that I think about it, Quince has been acting a bit differently recently. He has been gentler to me, actually. When I had protested to the idea of playing Thisbe, I had half expected Quince to either yell at me with that vicious tongue of his or to smack me. Instead he used a quick remark and went on with the casting.

I was probably imagining the entire incident. Yes, that's it! It was just my imagination from drinking. Yet, I was only on my first jug and I don't normally become drunk till my third or fourth. Never was quite the drinker actually. This is too much for my mind to comprehend now, it's only making this headache strength grow. I think I'll get a quick drink before I meet the others at the Duke's Oak tree in the woods.

Francis Flute


End file.
